


Twisted

by heyerruh



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: Community: kradamadness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-04
Updated: 2011-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-20 03:03:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyerruh/pseuds/heyerruh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kris knows this is wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twisted

**Author's Note:**

> This doesn't really fill any prompt but it came to be the other day when my friend and I were listening to Fever. Then we watched GaGa's video of Judas. Then I watched an episode that held one of the lines used here. Lol. In my head, a confession is a type of communicating. Sorta DARK fic ahead. Could be thought of as sacrilegious. You've been warned. ;) Also, I'm thinking of continuing this. Ideas?:)

Kris knows this is wrong. The confessional is no place to touch himself especially because he’s a priest but the melody coming from the choir’s new soloist just gets him so hot and bothered. It’s demented and depraved but the lyrics of Amazing Grace has sounded good to him, at least not until now. He’s so into what he’s doing that he doesn’t realize that the singing has stopped and that someone has entered the confessional with him.

Like every confessional, the priest is separated from the person confessing by a wooden divider and their only means of communication is the hole on the divider, slightly covered and obscuring the face of the person on the other side. Kris could have stopped what he was doing but what came next only made his surroundings so much hotter and his collar is plastered to his neck and it’s like he couldn’t breathe.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” says the person on the other side and Kris knows it’s Adam, the new soloist. He cannot mistake that voice for anyone else’s. It’s sweet, light, sexy and tempting. It’s everything Kris vowed to stay away from and yet here he is, inside the confessional and getting harder than he’s ever been since he became a priest.

He knows his breathing is ragged and it must be weirding Adam out but he also knows he must answer. “What are your sins?”

Adam lets out a chuckle and Kris’s hand is even fuller.

“You’re about to be my sin, Father,” and with that there’s a rustling sound and Adam’s inside the confessional compartment where Kris is and his mouth devours the priest’s already exposed flesh. All Kris can do is moan and pull on Adam’s hair. He can feel the back of Adam’s throat constricting around him and it’s so much, it’s too much. He tries pushing Adam back, warning him that he’s about to let go but all Adam does is lick the head and stay there, looking up at Kris, blue eyes and blown pupils along with the hint of a smirk on his pretty stretched lips. Kris stares and in a few seconds Kris is bathing Adam’s face with his come.

It’s a while before Kris can move, before he’s calmed down enough and his breathing almost back to normal. Adam’s now standing in front of him, right forefinger swiping at the come on his face. He continues to smirk at Kris and when he puts that finger into his mouth, Kris just can’t help but moan.

“I see how you look at me, Father,” purrs Adam. “I see how much you want me and I know how much you just thank God that your cassock hides your hard-on pretty well.” He’s still cleaning his own face off, swiping more fingers on his face, painting Kris’ come on his lips. His tongue comes out once in a while to lick and Kris is just so mesmerized.

“But I want you to say it, Father Allen. What makes you hot and bothered the most?” Adam gives him a sinister look and Kris is reminded of everything he’s supposed to know about Adam. The prodigal son, the son who took his inheritance from Eber Lambert and left to sow his wild oats in Los Angeles and two years later, he’s back and it seems like he wants to sow something else now altogether.

Kris stares at Adam, fighting himself from answering because that would be succumbing to temptation, succumbing and submitting to Adam, to sin itself.

Adam leans forward to level his beautiful face right in front of Kris’.

“I know, Father Allen. I know. Now, confess,” he hisses and it’s sexy, sultry and demanding and Kris can feel his softened prick come back to life. He wants again, he wants so much.

“You—your,” he exhales and tries again. “Your voice, Adam,” Kris musters.

Adam straightens up, unbuttons the sinfully fit jeans he’s wearing and pulls out his cock. He moves forward until it’s touching Kris’ lips. Kris looks up at him, sees his want and desire reflected in Adam’s eyes.

“Come on, Father Allen. Make me sing.”

With that, Kris opens his mouth and sins.

 **Epilogue:**

“Be my whore,” purrs Adam as he caresses Kris’s face and pulls it towards his belly where some of his come spurted.

Kris stops fighting everything. He lets his face be smeared with come and sweat as he inhales Adam’s scent tries to memorize it. He pulls away a bit and looks at some of Adam’s release. It’s shiny and slick, not foul smelling but not all that pleasant either. It’s his forbidden apple. It’s what he didn’t taste when he pulled away from Adam’s dick as it reached climax.

It’s calling to him and Kris heeds the call, looks up at Adam as he licks it off the pale stomach and sees all his lust and hunger reflected in vividly blue eyes.

As Adam starts to sing, Kris pauses what he’s doing. “As long as you continue to sing for me.”

Adam smirks and pulls Kris’s lips back towards his cock.

“Eat me, Father Allen.”


End file.
